


Lisboa

by ParijanTaiyou



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Palawan, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 10:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20505815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParijanTaiyou/pseuds/ParijanTaiyou
Summary: Now that Raquel has joined Sergio in Palawan, it's time to find her a codename.





	Lisboa

Their reunion in Palawan had been absolutely mind-blowing.

In the two weeks Raquel had spent with Sergio, they had barely left the house, making love until exhaustion, talking for hours getting to know each other again, and falling deeper and deeper in love with each other each day.

He had been afraid that now that she knew who he was, she wouldn’t want to come live with him with her family anymore. That she had come to visit him was more than he could have ever hoped for. But in the end, he hadn’t had to ask. Raquel had gone back to Spain to organise the move like it was a no-brainer There was nowhere else in the world she would rather be.

The day the taxi driving them from the airport had pulled up in front of his house had without a single doubt been the happiest of his life. 

Mariví didn’t remember him, but he hadn’t expected her to. As her illness kept progressing, they had hired a live-in nurse to help take care of her, which is what Raquel had been thinking of doing back in Madrid, before finding the postcards again.

Paula did, however. When she had followed her mother inside, she had looked around with wide eyes and exclaimed, “This is your home?!”, which had made them laugh.

“And now it’s yours, too.”

Now, a week later, Sergio and Raquel were laying together in bed, enjoying the sound of the ocean waves just outside. They were getting reacquainted with each other yet again, without the urgency and anxiety of before when they knew Raquel would have to go back to Spain eventually.

Now they had their entire lives ahead of them.

Raquel sighed contentedly, enjoying their afterglow. She was laying on top of him and they were exchanging idle caresses and lazy kisses.

“We should get you a codename,” Sergio suggested. “Now that you’re here.”

Raquel chuckled. She liked that idea, being part of the band, now that she was a criminal by association. Now that she had brought to the other end of the world her mother and daughter, leaving behind a sister involved with her abusive ex-husband whom she would never see again, a country that despised her, former colleagues and bosses that only saw her as a traitor and had left her no choice but to resign…

“City names, right? Any rules?” she asked as she looked up at him. “You give rules to everything.”

“Nothing that would help the police identify you. For instance, if Helsinki had been Belgrade, it would have made your job easier.”

She rested her cheek against his chest again and hummed pensively. “Capitals only? Or will any big city do?”

“Raquel, Rio de Janeiro isn’t the capital of Brazil since 1960.”

She rolled her eyes. “Smartarse. Any big city, then. Got it.” She thought about it for a second, then looked up at him again. “What about smaller cities? There’s a village in Castilla y León called La Hija de Dios.”

He laughed. “And one in Jaén called Venta de Pantalones. While I agree the former would suit you, it’s a bit of a mouthful,” Sergio said before cupping her face in his hands and kissing her softly.

She hummed and thought for a moment, about cities that she had been to, that she was attached to. San Sebastián or Bilbao came to mind, but references to her Basque roots made it easier to identify her. She had been born and bred in Madrid, knew and loved every inch of the city, but that was far too easy. She wondered how the robbers had chosen their code names, and if they had told Sergio why - she’d be curious to know.

“Lisboa,” she decided.

“Why?”

“When I was a child my father used to take us to the Basque country for the summer, all four of us. Then we would go to Portugal.” A sudden veil of sadness covered her eyes. “He died when I was 19. A stroke.”

Sergio caressed her arm, knowing all too well how it felt to lose a parent, especially at such a young age. “I’m sorry.”

“It was so sudden. He was healthy. I adored him. You know, the last time I saw him, I had an argument with him. I never got to tell him I didn’t mean any of it.”

“What did you argue about?”

“About me partying my life away and having no goal in life.” She looked away and patted her eyes. “A year after he died I enrolled in the Academy.”  
He wanted to ask her why she had chosen the police as her career, but it would be a conversation for another time. “I’m sure he knew you loved him, Raquel. He’d be so proud of you.”

“What would you have picked?” she asked, smiling, as she blinked back her tears, eager for a distraction. “If you hadn’t been the Professor?”

“Firenze,” he replied without a hesitation. “Andrés lived there for a time. Our mother was Italian. I would visit him often. It’s a beautiful city, it really is.”

His eyes glistened with tears as well. The wound of his brother’s death hadn’t quite closed yet - if he touched it carelessly it bled again. 

Raquel caressed his shoulder. After the robbers and the Professor had fled, when she had heard Berlín had been killed, that Sergio Marquina was in fact Andrés de Fonollosa’s half-brother… her heart had shattered for him - and the fact that she couldn’t be there for him and didn’t know if she ever would had only made it worse. She had mourned the cocky son of a bitch like her own sibling.

She smiled tenderly as she caressed his cheek, wiping a tear that had escaped. “Look at us. Crying naked in bed after one of the best sex we had.”

He chuckled and pulled her closer to him. He kissed her and they just held each other for a while, skin to skin, finding comfort in their embrace.

“Lisboa,” he whispered in her ear. “Welcome to the family.”

**Author's Note:**

> Both La Hija de Dios ("The Daughter of God") and Venta de Pantalones ("Trousers sale") do exist. La Hija has 78 inhabitants and is located about 138 km from Madrid. Venta de Pantalones is in Andalusia, and from what I gathered it is deserted.
> 
> I might try to translate this story in Spanish. It's short, the dialogues did come to me in Spanish as I wrote it... We'll see. Stay tuned. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please don't hesitate to leave kudos or to let me know what you think :)  
Also, subsidiary question: what city name would you have picked? (I think I would have gone with Vienna!)


End file.
